


The Friction In His Jeans

by EmptyIceCreamContainer



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Exhibitionism, In Public, Inappropriate Erections, Masturbation, Other, Public Arousal, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27076714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmptyIceCreamContainer/pseuds/EmptyIceCreamContainer
Summary: Patrick gets aroused onstage in the middle of a concert, and has to rush offstage to deal with his "problem" as Pete stalls for time.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	The Friction In His Jeans

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to SerenitySpiral for the title!

He was halfway through the setlist when a certain… problem started to arise. Patrick couldn’t help it, really—the energy of the crowd was at truly awesome levels, the music blared, and his guitar vibrated with powerful chords. He was really _feeling_ it tonight, both musical performance-wise and in _other_ ways.

It started as just a semi, nothing he hadn’t prepared for by carefully tucking upwards. Really, that trick had saved him embarrassment at countless shows now. He couldn’t help it, being on stage _did_ something to him. But when he felt himself start to, well, slip out of position, and tried to discreetly nudge things back into place with his guitar…

Dear _god_ , the vibrations!

It wasn’t that he was unfamiliar with the unintentionally arousing effects of his “guitar shove” move, but tonight was clearly becoming one of those nights where things went beyond “feeling good” and straight into “raging hard-on in full public view”. He kept his guitar low to help hide the situation, but that also meant more contact with the source of those maddeningly pleasurable vibrations. He tried, and mostly succeeded, in channeling his passions into the song, but it did nothing to calm the massive erection now trapped within his skin-tight jeans. The fact that he was still onstage, with the crowd going absolutely wild, wasn’t helping either—this was simultaneously the best thing for his exhibitionist streak, and an incredibly inconvenient time for it to show up in full force.

Suddenly, poor Patrick was facing the mortifying/arousing prospect of _cumming on-stage_. In front of thousands of people. In the middle of a concert.

His anxiety kicked in then. How would he play it off? Would his orgasm face be that obvious? Could he disguise it as something else happening? What if people laughed at him??? Would that be better than the crowd being disgusted???

Unfortunately, despite everything, the anxiety didn’t affect his _problem_ to any degree.

The song ended, and his salvation came in the form of Pete alone being spotlighted to introduce the next song. With practically superhuman speed, Patrick dashed over just long enough to mutter “Stall for time!” in his bandmate’s ear, and then bolted off the darkened stage.

Dodging the effects techs and stage security along the way, he finally reached his private dressing room, slammed the door, and locked it. He could hear Pete starting to ramble—good, he could tell how much time he had—as he desperately unbuckled his belt and fumbled the buttons on his fly open.

He settled on the dressing room couch, cock in hand, and started working his length in long, firm strokes. He was rougher than he’d usually be with himself; he knew he didn’t have time to draw things out, and he was already so worked up that he wanted nothing more than to chase that heady release. He could still hear the faint crowd noise alongside Pete’s rambling story about their younger years in Chicago. The attention, the energy, and the mention of his beloved city only fueled his passion further—god, his exhibitionist streak was in fine form, bringing him this far just from a good show. He bit back a moan as his fingers spread leaking pre-cum over his flushed-pink cockhead and down his shaft. Oh, he wished he could be loud as ever, but he couldn’t risk security or a roadie barging in if they thought he was sick. Although, the idea of getting caught was a thrill all its own…

It was no surprise that he came quickly and suddenly, barely scrambling to grab some tissues of the side table to catch the sticky spurts of his intense release. He wanted to bask in the warm, pleasant numbness of the afterglow, but the crowd laughing at some part of Pete’s anecdote snapped him back to reality. He needed to be back on stage, and _fast_.

He did his best to stuff his still-sensitive cock back into his jeans, hastily checked himself in the mirror to make sure nothing was obviously indecent, and grabbed some hand sanitizer to use on the way back to the stage because he was _not_ going back on stage with dick hands (he insisted on having _that_ much decency at least). He could only hope that having slightly muddled post-orgasm brain wouldn’t affect him too terribly on the next song. Shit, what was the next song on the setlist again?

Sprinting back on stage, he tapped Pete on the shoulder with a quiet, “I’m back,” and “Make sure you introduce the next song for me?”

Pete miraculously found a way to wrap up his story within the next sentence.

“So, that’s why Patrick and I used to go running in full jeans. Anyways, this next song is called Immortals!”


End file.
